Vachel Lindsay

(November 10, 1879 – December 5, 1931 / Springfield, Illinois)

The Moon's The North Wind's Cooky - Poem by Vachel Lindsay

The Moon's the North Wind's cooky.
He bites it, day by day,
Until there's but a rim of scraps
That crumble all away.

The South Wind is a baker.
He kneads clouds in his den,
And bakes a crisp new moon that . . . greedy
North . . . Wind . . . eats . . . again!


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Read poems about / on: moon, wind



Poem Submitted: Friday, January 3, 2003



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